


and i am feeling so small

by smallblueandloud



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Season/Series 05 Finale, Sort Of, all ships can be read as either platonic or romantic (except the canon fitzsimmons), and cry a lot too, basically they hug and talk about their feelings a lot, did i mention there was crying?, there are mentions of fitz's death and events of 5x14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 13:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16041290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallblueandloud/pseuds/smallblueandloud
Summary: Fitz - Fitz is out of her reach, right now, frozen in the dark of space, god-knows-where. And there’s still so much between them, so much that he won’t have experienced - she’s not sure how well they can recover.But she can still try to keep Jemma warm, at least.(or, a cold bunk in the dark of night is probably not the best place for forgiveness, but since when have jemma and daisy ever had done things the right way?)





	and i am feeling so small

**Author's Note:**

> this is set a few hours after the season 5 finale ends. so everyone has piled onto the zephyr to go find fitz 2.0.
> 
> i purposefully left the relationships ambiguous, but if you want my opinion...
> 
> (it's super gay y'all)
> 
> the title is from ‘say something,’ which was the only song that i listened to the entire time i was writing this. you should definitely listen to it to get some of the atmosphere, and also maybe wake up in the middle of the night in a freezing room for the best experience.
> 
> come chat on tumblr about fsk and agents of shield!

Daisy wakes up to the sound of a knock on her door.

 

No, wait - it isn’t a knock. Someone’s outside her door, yes, but they haven’t knocked. The most likely scenario is that her instincts are still on hyperdrive and her body woke her up so that she would be ready to face the threat.

 

She lies in bed for a minute, processing this and listening to the sound of footsteps outside. They keep getting fainter and louder, fainter and louder, as if the person on the other side is pacing back and forth. As if they can’t make up their mind about something.

 

 _Oh,_ she thinks, the thought suddenly piercing through the fog of sleep that is still blanketing her brain. _Those are Jemma’s footsteps._

 

It explains why they sound so familiar, and also why she didn’t wake up with her hand against the other woman’s throat. Yes, she’s exhausted, and yes, their relationship may be in tatters, but her unconscious brain still registered _friend-bestie-love_ and acted accordingly, waking her up slowly enough that she’s not anxious about what’s about to happen.

 

There’s no adrenaline in her. She’s not ready to fight.

 

She’s ready to comfort. She’s ready to stare into the darkness of her room and have quiet conversations about her feelings.

 

The realization almost makes her sigh, because her feelings about Simmons - _and Fitz always Fitz god what is going to happen with Fitz_ \- may be complicated but apparently that isn’t enough to ruin their friendship.

 

Apparently nothing is enough to ruin their friendship.

 

 _It’s a sign_ , she thinks to herself, and sits up slowly, unwilling to leave the warmth of her bed. Her muscles are aching, pain left over from the trauma of injecting the Centipede serum into her system and then using her powers for far more than she ever has before. And the Zephyr always gets cold when it’s in the air, especially at night - it’s the problem that Fitz still hasn’t been able to solve.

 

The Bus got cold like this too. She remembers sharing cups of hot chocolate with Fitz and Jemma back then, late at night when an experiment had kept them awake. She would make them both mugfulls and bring them to the lab, coaxing the two scientists away from their experiments and forcing them to at least put on sweaters before they could continue.

 

So much has changed since then. They’ve all been through so much. Fitz- Fitz is out of her reach, right now, frozen in the dark of space, god-knows-where. And there’s still so much between them, so much that he won’t have experienced - she’s not sure how well they can recover.

 

But she can still try to keep Jemma warm, at least.

 

“Jem,” she says, seemingly to the empty room. The footsteps outside stop.

 

She sighs, her breath making little steam crystals in the air. Now that their altitude is in the upper atmosphere and still climbing, the temperature is dropping exponentially, until eventually it will literally be freezing inside. That is, unless Mack can figure out the heating in time.

 

He’s in bed, asleep next to Elena right now, and it isn’t a very pressing concern in the grand scheme of things. But the cold still remains.

 

“Jem, I know you’re cold.”

 

Her voice sounds congested, rusty from hours of disuse. She hugs the blankets closer to herself, unsure of what to say. Eventually, she realizes what Jemma is waiting for.

 

“Come on in here,” she says, steeling her nerves for disappointment and an empty bed tonight. But the door slowly creeps open, revealing Jemma, clad in leggings and a t-shirt that’s at least a size too big.

 

Daisy’s heart stutters in her chest. It’s a man’s shirt, and it has a cartoon drawing of a monkey on the front. She’d bought it as a birthday gift for Fitz, when Simmons was still trapped on Maveth. He had been working out in the gym while trying to puzzle out solutions - physical activity helped him think - and his old shirts hadn’t been fitting him as comfortably. This shirt was the first acknowledgement of his change - an _it’s okay_ to someone who sorely needed it. And now everything is so awful because of how much he’d changed over the past few weeks.

 

She shakes her head, trying to clear away melancholy thoughts. “Hey,” she says, as Jemma closes the door behind her. “What brings you here?”

 

Jemma shrugs, looking away. Daisy can barely see the expression on her face in the darkness of the tiny bunk that she’s chosen out for herself. “I don’t know.”

 

Both of them know exactly why she’s here, but neither say it. Jemma just stands there and Daisy just stares at her for a while, until she notices that Jemma’s shivering.

 

“Come on,” she says, sighing and scooting over. “You’re going to catch a cold out there.”

 

Jemma frowns, and Daisy knows that she’s about to say something about how the cold doesn’t actually cause the common cold, or something. But to her surprise, she doesn’t say anything, just sits down on the bed without protest and lets Daisy tuck a this-kind-of-softness-must-be-illegal-soft blanket around her shoulders.

 

As soon as her hands leave Jemma’s shoulders, she starts to hunch in on herself, getting even smaller, almost drowning in Daisy’s thick blanket and her husband’s oversized t-shirt. Daisy takes one look at her and makes an executive decision, moving closer and wrapping her right arm around Jemma’s shoulder.

 

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Jemma doesn’t stop shivering, instead keeps shaking harder and harder until it’s clear that the cold isn’t what’s affecting her. Daisy doesn’t know what to do with crying people - never really has, if she’s being honest - so she keeps her arm around Jemma’s shoulder and doesn’t say anything until the shaking gets to a manageable level. Then she whispers, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

“I could really use a hug,” says Jemma quietly, wiping at her eyes and sounding almost like she’s trying to be flippant.

 

Daisy turns fully and wraps her arms around Jemma’s torso, pulling her close until her head rests on her shoulder. “I can do that,” she says, into her ear.

 

This seems to just open the dam again, as Jemma starts to cry again. Daisy pulls her impossibly closer and tries not to cry herself. It feels like all of the emotions of the past months - god, has it only been four months since the Ghost Rider? - are finally crashing down on her and all she can think of is-

 

“Fitz-” exhales Jemma, the only coherent thing she seems to be able to say.

 

Daisy can relate.

 

Finally, after what seems like hours, the tears slow and Jemma pulls away, coughing a little and using a corner of the blanket to wipe her face.

 

“I just- I can’t help feeling that he isn’t going to be _him_ ,” she says, and glances away as her face starts to crumple again.

 

“Yeah,” says Daisy, looking down. She’s talking about the frozen Fitz, of course. Her not-husband, because of course he won’t remember their wedding or even his proposal. She can’t imagine how Jemma’s feeling, probably because she doesn’t even know how _she’s_ feeling. The knot in her heart is too convoluted for her to _consider_ unraveling-

 

“But if- but even if it’s not really him-” says Jemma, taking a deep breath and putting a hand underneath Daisy’s chin to pull her face back up. “I’m happy that- that we’ll be able to make sure that he won’t- you-”

 

The words seem to die in her throat, but Daisy knows what she’s talking about. _Go batshit crazy and hurt me again_ , her brain supplies, against her will. “Yeah,” she repeats, blinking rapidly as Jemma’s face blurs.

 

“It’s okay,” she says, pulling Daisy in again, and this time it’s Daisy’s turn to sob on her shoulder. All of the worry - all of the _fear_ \- is finally being let out, and she hasn’t really _talked_ to Fitz in four months, has she? And now he’s gone.

 

He’s _gone_. One of her best friends, someone who she loves incredibly deeply - is gone. The man who married Jemma in a sun-drenched fake woods will never say anything to her - to either of them - again.

 

Of course, the man who strapped her down and cut into her - _violated_ her and her trust - is gone too. And everyone will be working together to make sure that he’ll never get to that point again.

 

That’s good, sure. But the Fitz that died in Chicago wasn’t just a psychopathic alter ego who took control of her favorite person in the world. He still _was_ her favorite person in the world. He saved Robin and Robin’s mother, and Mack, and he argued with Deke and vowed to have and to hold till death did they part.

 

 _Even that couldn’t split them up_ , she thinks, half hysterically, and the thought only makes her cry harder.

 

The last time she cried like this was when Lincoln died. She’s realizing that it’s a much more pleasant experience when she does it the protective circle in Jemma’s arms.

 

Gradually, she begins to be aware of what Jemma’s saying, whispered into her hair. _I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry_. Over and over again, and Daisy’s not even sure what she’s apologizing for.

 

She says as much, and Jemma laughs softly, nothing more than a whisper of air through the strands of her hair. “How about I’m sorry that we were on different sides? I’m sorry that I didn’t listen to you, and I’m sorry that you had to fight to keep me safe. And I’m- Daisy, love, I am _so_ sorry for everything that F- that _he_ did to you, I can’t _imagine_ -”

 

“He held a gun to you,” Daisy whispers. “He pointed a gun at you after he had married you days before and I’m so sorry that I was stubborn enough and didn’t change my mind and it made that _bastard_ emerge-”

 

“No, it’s not your fault,” says Jemma, soothingly. “You were acting in the way that you saw best, to save us all. I can- I know that you want to keep us safe.”

 

 _Yes_ , Daisy wants to say. _Yes, yes, yes, that’s all I ever wanted - to keep the both of you safe._

 

Her voice fails her, though, and all she can do is nod.

 

“And I wish- if I had only seen the signs- if only I had- I have a handful of doctorates, for god’s sake-”

 

“No,” says Daisy instantly, the word coming out before she can think. She pulls back so that she can look Jemma straight in the eye. “No, this isn’t anyone’s fault, except probably that bitch Aida’s for making Fitz think that he could ever be the kind of person that would-” she stops, unable to say it. “No,” she says, finally. “You don’t get to blame yourself for this.”

 

“Only if you don’t,” says Jemma, and is that a small smile curling across her face?

 

She holds out a hand, her pinky outstretched, and god, Daisy loves her.

 

“Deal,” she says, wrapping her own pinky around the other woman’s. They shake for good measure, and then it’s like the spell is broken and everything is where it should be again, and these awful months, that feel like they belong straight out of a nightmare, never happened.

 

And sure, they did. Both Daisy and Jemma have the scars to prove it. As Jemma pulls the blanket to wrap more firmly around them, Daisy’s muscles twinge, reminding her that it has literally only been a few hours since Chicago.

 

But she’s got her best friend back, and together she feels like they can do everything. Finding a singular ship in the dark vastness space? Easy. Explaining to Fitz what’s been going on? No problem.

 

Learning to forgive him, and themselves?

 

Piece of cake.

 

As long as they’re together.


End file.
